


Decor

by cherryroad (summerstorm)



Category: Friends
Genre: Domestic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-04
Updated: 2009-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/cherryroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why?" Monica asks. "Why? It's the only thing that fits. Obviously we can't throw the armchair in there. It doesn't have wheels. It would be unmovable. How would I clean behind it, Chandler? How? Do you want to live in squalor? Is that what you want?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decor

**Author's Note:**

> For comment_fic, prompt "Monica/Chandler, growing up".

"We're not putting the crib in the corner."

"Why?" Monica asks. "Why? It's the only thing that _fits_. Obviously we can't throw the armchair in there. It doesn't have wheels. It would be unmovable. How would I _clean_ behind it, Chandler? How? Do you want to live in squalor? Is that what you want?"

Chandler blinks. "But—"

"What?"

"But nobody puts baby in the corner."

Monica's eyes widen, a lot, before she manages to breathe and smack him in the arm. At the same time. "Don't do that to me," she says, a smile on the corner of her lips, almost there.

"Why? It was funny."

"No it wasn't," Monica says. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Whatever happened to 'don't worry, honey, I'll listen to your thoughts'?" asks Chandler, amused.

"It was a misleading truth," Monica deadpans.

"Right," Chandler says, "should've known that."

Monica shrugs. "Okay, now. Where are we putting the toy chest?"

Chandler gives it some thought and reluctantly ventures, "At the foot of the bed?"

"Are you _nuts_? What if they fall in? Worse, what if they fall in and, and _swallow_ som—" She stops. She interrupts herself. She looks at Chandler, and there's a glint of realization in her eye. "You're kidding again."

Chandler looks at her for a second, torn between telling the truth or... not telling the truth. Or discussing. Or not.

Finally, he forces himself to smile and say, "You got me."

Monica hits him in the arm again, lighter this time, though it still hurts. "Great."

Chandler smiles and goes back to his chair. In the corner.

Sometimes growing up means sitting down and letting your wife take over.


End file.
